


Behavioral Observations

by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)



Category: Jurassic Park Original Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Flirting, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Jurassic World, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-05 00:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/pseuds/Jedi%20Buttercup
Summary: The constraints of both men's schedules had kept them from meeting up in person since Alan had returned from Sorna, and certain things had been difficult to adequately describe over the phone. But Ian's reaction was definitely worth waiting for.





	Behavioral Observations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/gifts).



Dr. Alan Grant thought quite a bit about legacy in the wake of his second visit to a certain aptly-named archipelago. About his first book, the one both Tim Murphy and Eric Kirby had read, whose chief virtue – according to both boys – was that you could tell he'd still liked dinosaurs when he'd written it. About the second, written while obsessively studying velociraptors in the aftermath of his misadventures on Isla Nublar. And about all the lectures he'd given since the Park's existence had finally gone public, facing down an audience that increasingly failed to grasp the difference between fantasy and reality.

It didn't matter to the average American that Hammond's creatures were genetically created hybrids, not true examples of ancient species that had been dead more than sixty-five million years. They weren't specialists, after all; it wasn't _their_ life's work teetering on the edge of its own extinction. The important thing to _them_ was that the T-Rex that had roared its way through the streets of San Diego _looked_ like the 'terrible lizard' they'd been fascinated by as children, and that a _whole island_ of similar animals was still out there waiting to be rediscovered. No one cared that they were the end result of a project begun in hubris, nourished by greed, and plagued by disaster; what mattered was that the world of myth had been brought to roaring life right in front of them. 

He admitted as much over the phone to Ellie, thanking her for the rescue while he waited on news of Billy's surgery, and had to smile at the fond, slightly exasperated tone of her reply.

"Why do you think I got out when I did, Alan? It was never about you, you know; it was about the fact that you couldn't let it go, and I could already see the writing on the wall."

"That, and the nightmares," Alan chided her gently.

"That, and the nightmares," she agreed, ruefully. "Trying to figure out where Hammond went wrong might have worked for _you_ , but it certainly wasn't helping me sleep at night. I still can't believe you actually went back there; I know I said you could ask me for anything, but _please_ tell me I'm never going to get a call like that one again."

"You know as well as I do the lengths I'd be willing to go for funding, or don't you remember how we ended up at Jurassic Park in the first place?" he replied, wryly. "But as it happens, you needn't worry. The Kirbys might not be able to pay what they'd promised – they'll be lucky if they don't end up in jail for this stunt – but I got a call from a man named Masrani a little while ago. It turns out he acquired InGen after Hammond passed away, along with rights and access to the dinosaurs on both Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna."

"Simon Masrani, the head of Masrani Global? _Please_ tell me he doesn't want you to stay on as a consultant."

"Not quite. He did offer to make good the Kirbys' fee, but he promised strictly video interactions; nothing in person."

"I'll believe _that_ when you're still in Montana in another six years," Ellie said. "And what about Billy? Is he being compensated, too?"

"He'll be healing for awhile, but I've been assured he'll be taken care of as well, whether or not he chooses to return to the University of Montana," Alan assured her. "And, well ... I've been thinking about writing another book, anyway. Something to fill the time until things are finalized, either way."

"Let me guess, about velociraptor behavior patterns," Ellie said, teasingly. "Have you told Ian yet? He never fails to bring up the fact that his book had a better critical reception than either of yours, even if yours _did_ have better sales. Please tell me you've at least told him you're OK; when I called to let him know what was going on, he was a little indignant that you hadn't even informed him you were going."

"I can imagine," Alan winced. He could already envision the earful he was going to get when he _did_ call, never mind when he revealed why exactly he hadn't done so beforehand. 

He hadn't met Dr. Sarah Harding before her relationship with Ian, but they'd all had dinner together once or twice before her own visit to Sorna, and Alan had found her something of a kindred spirit. He hadn't been surprised to learn _she'd_ gone to the islands without consulting Ian first, knowing that he would try to talk her out of it – and he doubted telling Ian he'd done much the same for much the same reason was going to go over all that well. "No, I haven't. He was going to be my next call."

"He'd better be," Ellie chided, then sighed. "It's dinnertime here; I've got to go. Take care of yourself, do you hear me? And thank you for calling. Seriously, anything, I meant it."

"You're the best, Ellie," Alan said, warmly. "Give my love to Charlie."

"Will do."

He smiled to himself as she hung up, then settled back in his chair again, thinking of Ian, of Sarah, of those dinosaur fans at his last public lecture, and of a little boy playing with prehistoric figurines on a lawn in the suburbs. 

Somewhere along the line, in the years between Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna, he _had_ forgotten his love for the animals he studied. He'd forgotten that first moment when he'd looked up and seen a herd of apatosaurs grazing by a lake, and felt his knees go weak at the impossible intersection of fairytale and reality. Forgotten the sound of brachiosaurs singing among the trees at sunset; lifting that first wild, broken eggshell from its nest; realizing that all his painstakingly pieced together behavioral theories were _true_. Despite all the terrible events of the Sorna visit, years-old trauma renewed and refreshed in novel and excitingly life-threatening ways, it had also reminded him of something he hadn't even really been aware he'd lost. Something he'd seen in Eric Kirby's eyes out there in the jungle, despite his own terrible experiences; something he'd heard in Masrani's voice, when the man had talked of renewing Hammond's dream. _Wonder_.

That might be an odd way to think of the moment he'd taken those eggs out of Billy's bag in front of a pack of velociraptors, sick with terror and anticipation, or the way his hands had shaken when he'd raised the replica resonating chamber to his mouth and blew. But as any child delightedly screaming their way through a haunted house knew, terror and ecstasy were two sides of the same coin. Ellie had chided him about frightening that kid at their dig in '93 with a fossilized velociraptor claw to the stomach – but Alan would bet if he went back and asked him now, that young man would say the same thing.

There was a more practical side to things, too. Hammond's vision of dinosaurs was not going to go away. Nor was the funding situation for Alan's department at the Museum of the Rockies likely to improve anytime soon. But if he took Masrani's offer, if he wrote a new book that _highlighted_ the differences between the living animals and the historical creatures in a way that might appeal to fans of both.... Well, the genie was already out of the bottle. If he could convince even _one_ future breeder or handler to treat those creatures with the wary reverence they deserved, if even one life was saved by that caution ... every moment of his experiences thus far would be worth it.

He clicked the ball-point pen in his hands, smiling ruefully at the yellow ruled notepad he'd scrounged up while he waited, and thought again about Ian. Back in his office in Montana, a row of snapshots Ellie had framed from various 'We Survived John Hammond's Genius' parties through the years watched over Alan's desk, half of them featuring a black-clad mathematician aiming a wry smirk at the camera. Ian would probably say he'd never have predicted any of it; and then turn right around and use Alan as an example in his next point about chaos.

Alan chuckled to himself, then set pen to paper. The phone call could wait a little longer.

_Dedicated to Dr. Ian Malcolm, without whose wry commentary...._

How was that for an unpredictable beginning?

* * *

"And now you're ... what," Ian said, a few months later, eyebrow arched as he gestured between Alan and the open video window on the computer monitor behind him. The constraints of both men's schedules had kept them from meeting up in person since Alan had returned from Sorna, and certain things had been difficult to adequately describe over the phone. But his reaction was worth waiting for. "Being paid to _watch_ them? I mean, sure, your new book is going to be a smash hit – congratulations, by the way, on capturing the public zeitgeist at last – but I thought you were planning to use the funds on another dig, not ... _this_. Doesn't it keep you up at night?"

Alan glanced toward the monitor – at a safe distance from his desk, where he could watch the thing and Billy could run the system without risk of him accidentally hitting the wrong buttons and uninstalling the software or something equally unhelpful – and smiled at the view of a river shore where a new nest of velociraptor eggs had been laid. One of the adults was tending the eggs, turning them slightly; the microphone pickup was too far up in the trees to catch the more subtle sounds it was making, but the hunting bark that caught its attention and inspired it to lift its head and issue an irritated response was clearly audible. 

"Believe it or not – no. Didn't Ellie tell you? I know she talked to you about the way I fixated on them after the first incident, at least. I'll admit, when I heard Billy blow through that first resonating chamber he made, it was like a glass of ice water down my back. But the truth is, studying them, understanding what I saw and how it compares and contrasts to what I already knew, helps make them _less_ terrifying, not more."

"You say that now," Ian replied dryly, skepticism furrowing his brow. "But when Masrani's people use your research to make _more_ of those things, and tell themselves that _this_ time they know what they're doing, _this_ time they'll control all the variables...."

"Well, they're going to do that no matter whether I'm involved or not, and they can hardly do _worse_ than either of the previous examples," Alan shrugged. "The first velociraptors were raised in an antagonistic environment, where human beings were competition, not caretakers, and their only positive reinforcement was delivered via remotely-driven machines. Knowing now exactly how intelligent they are – it's no wonder that first group targeted humans preferentially to any other available prey. The raptors on Sorna, self-raised without any human intervention at all, were less specifically hostile – but also failed to respect human beings as any kind of threat or authority. They could convey complex concepts to one another, make plans, care for their young, and recognize and use tools, all only a generation or two out from having to raise themselves with no guidance or culture to rely on whatsoever. If Masrani hopes to keep them in any sort of environment where human interaction will be required in future, he's going to have to completely start over...."

Ian's expression shifted as he spoke, to something warmer and more patiently amused; suddenly self-conscious, Alan let the words trail away. He'd known, when he'd sent Ian the draft with that pointed dedication, that the other man was single again; Ian was still on good terms with Dr. Harding, but their relationship hadn't lasted much past the San Diego incident. At the time, he'd made a joke about the similarity to what had happened with Alan and Ellie, and how facing mortal danger together seemed to highlight incompatibilities, like flaws in a gemstone under the focus of a jeweler's loupe. He'd left unstated the reasons why he still maintained such regular contact with Alan despite that ... but Ian flirted like he breathed, and neither of them were young anymore. Why _was_ he here, really? 

"But of course, you didn't come here to hear me ramble about one of your least favorite subjects," he ventured, cautiously. "If you'll just give me a minute to pack up...."

"Oh, I don't know." Ian's smile grew a touch more wicked and he kicked back in his chair, shaking his head. "If it had been _tyrannosaurs_ , maybe. I had my share of contact with the raptors, but the sound the T-Rex made when it was chasing us down in that Jeep, or when we got cornered under the waterfall a few years later...." He shuddered theatrically, kneading absently at the leg he'd broken on Nublar. "That's never not going to chill my blood, which is kind of the opposite of what I'm going for here. But you ought to know by now how I feel about passion, and people expressing those passions. Getting to see it on _you_ is kind of a treat; you've been so _dour_ the last several times we've met."

Alan could feel the warm flush rising up his throat, and managed a wry grin. "Have I really? Sorry to have been such a disappointment."

"Now, now, don't go putting words in my mouth," Ian tsk'ed. "I'd never say I was ... disappointed to see you. It's just that you've been withdrawing into yourself ever since Nublar, even after the non-disclosure agreements were nullified. Ellie's observation, not mine," he spread his hands apologetically. "When I heard about what happened ... I don't know what I was expecting, but a cheeky phone call and an even cheekier dedication was a pleasant surprise. Reminded me of the guy I met in that helicopter all those years ago. So here I am. And here you are." 

"As simple as that," Alan replied, a wave of relief washing through him, leaving a tingle of something a little more interesting in its wake. "Do you know, I resented you for that introduction? You asked if we dug up dinosaurs, and then _laughed_. I thought you were being condescending."

He stepped around the desk, lifting his much-travelled hat from its customary position on the corner of a bookshelf as he passed it, and smirked as he saw Ian's gaze shift to follow it in appreciation.

"To be fair, there was a _little_ condescension. It might have been said that I suffer from an ... ah ... excess of personality."

Ian waited until Alan was within arm's length of him, then stood, looking down the few inches between them. He was well within Alan's usual personal space bubble, but Ian had long since ceased to register as an intrusion; instead, the tension of his presence tripped over into something a little more pulse-catching. Oddly, it reminded Alan of the moment with the velociraptors all over again: reassessing and finding wonder again where he hadn't looked for it before. 

"You don't say," he said, tone very dry. "It took me awhile to work out that you already knew what we were about to see, and were genuinely looking forward to our reaction."

"Oh, is _that_ why you didn't tell me over the phone," Ian laughed. "Imitation, flattery, et cetera." There might be a few more lines on his face these days, a few grey threads woven in among his dark, wavy hair, but the possessive curl of that voice hadn't changed one bit. "Hammond _was_ right about something else too, you know."

Alan raised his eyebrows, bemused. "And what might that be?"

Ian's grin widened, teeth flashing. "How can we stand in the light of discovery and not act?"

And perhaps that was why Alan had been reminded of the velociraptors: of the capacity for joy, and all the reasons _he'd_ maintained their seemingly mismatched friendship over the years. Ian had always struck him as the kind of person who'd learned very young how fickle life could be, and while that had ill prepared him to deal with people who _wanted_ to be a part of his life long-term, it had also given him a calling, a witty tongue, an admirable ability to roll with the punches, and a complete lack – as Billy would say – of any fucks left to give. The older Alan got, the more he'd seen, the more attractive that combination of qualities had become.

Add a dash of passion to the mixture, and ... well. Alan might not be the most adept person technologically, but he'd always been far more _flexible_ with people.

"That wasn't what you said at the time," he teased. "Something about ... penetrative acts, wasn't it?"

"How, exactly, did we get to the argument stage of this relationship without going through any of the fun parts first?" Ian lamented, eyes twinkling. "I'm starting to feel a little cheated."

"Suppose we start with dinner, before you start making promises you don't intend to keep," Alan chuckled. "Billy forgot to restock the office fridge again, and I find it difficult to be properly ... inspired ... on an empty stomach."

The laughter in Ian's eyes stilled, then reignited into something a little more heated. He reached up, gently tweaking the brim of Alan's hat; then that wicked smile flashed again, and he gestured Alan toward the door. "Well, we can't have that, now can we."

Alan chuckled, and felt anticipation build: another observation he was _definitely_ looking forward to following through to its conclusion. "Well ... perhaps _something_ for the road," he replied, closing the remaining distance between them. "Wouldn't be fair to expect you to theorize without any data, either."

"Should have tried the water droplet demonstration on _you_ all those years ago instead of Ellie, shouldn't I," Ian replied huskily, hands coming up to rest on Alan's arms. "Careful, or I might actually start intending those promises after all."

Alan thought about reminding him that he actually knew all the ex-Mrs. Malcolms now, so _he_ was the one who should be careful; but the feel of Ian's still tautly muscled flanks under his own hands was a not inconsiderable distraction, and a more enjoyable way to cut the conversation short immediately presented itself.

Ian hummed against his mouth, because of course he did, and.... 

... Well, they never did make it to dinner.


End file.
